


Space Husband Ficlet Collection

by Phyona



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Five Year Mission, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Meld, Sickfic, Soul Bond, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phyona/pseuds/Phyona
Summary: My little tumblr ficlets about these two space bozos.Read on tumblr here.





	1. Accidental Vulcan Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spock blushes a lot and Kirk is oblivious, because apparently the nature of Vulcan kissing is not common knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always loved Star Trek, but the full-on crazy ass all-consuming obsession hit me a few months ago and I've not thought of anything else since. 
> 
> Special thanks to [plaidshirtjimkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk/works) for being so lovely in welcoming me to this awesome fandom.

 

[Art tumblr link](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/151387333100/i-have-been-and-always-shall-be-yours#notes)

* * *

 

 

Spock and Kirk had been captured by native alien tribes before.  In fact, it was illogical that Spock hadn’t observed the pattern and taken some sort of preventative measures.  If he had, he might not have found himself in the most uncomfortable position he’d ever endured:

Trapped in a small cage, with his hands bound to James T. Kirk’s.

He was certain neither his captain nor his captors understood the Vulcan implications of finger-touching.  Kirk didn’t, at least, or Spock knew he’d be pulsing disgust into the psychic bond of skin on skin, rather than his familiar brand of unwavering resolve.

Spock did his best to raise his shields.

“You’d think we’d have learned to avoid this by now,” Kirk sighed, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.  He flexed his fingers against Spock’s, not seeming to notice when Spock shivered at the touch.

“I overestimated our ability to learn from our mistakes.”  

“How foolish of you.”  Kirk shot him a playful glance, totally at odds with the severity of their situation. He punctuated by squeezing the mound of Spock’s palm; a sensual, skilled pressure.  Spock straightened and drew in his crossed legs.

“Are you alright?  You look a little green.  Then again, you always look a little green.”  

Keen eyes, gleaming gold in the candlelight, searched his face.  Spock swallowed.

“Wait, are you…blushing?”  Kirk ran the pad of a thumb over Spock’s knuckles, and grinned when the heat flared in Spock’s cheeks.  “You are!”

“Don’t be absurd.”  He tried to extract his hands from Kirk’s grip with a jerk.

“Hey, relax, will you?  These straps sting,” Kirk said, wincing.

“Apologies, Captain.” Spock forfeited the effort in an instant.

“Hate to say it, but you’re just gonna’ have to hold my hands.  I promise I won’t tell Bones.”

Spock shut his eyes.  At least then he wouldn’t have to see the way Kirk’s ripped shirt hung on the smooth arch of his bare shoulder.

“The doctor is not my concern at this moment.”

“Yeah, I guess we should probably find a way out of this cage before we’re cannibalized.  Does it still count as cannibalism if they aren’t human, or does that rule apply to all humanoids whether or not they have hooves?”

“You’re being cavalier about our circumstances, Captain.”

“Just trying to ask the important questions, Mister Spock.”  Kirk winked at him before attempting to adjust their positions.  He scooted towards Spock on his rear, unfurling his crossed legs and draping them over Spock’s knees, bracketing his hips.  Every movement rubbed their fingers together in the dwindling space between their bodies.

“C-captain.” Spock said when Kirk was practically sitting in his lap.

“I’m only getting comfortable so we can figure out how to get out of here.  My feet fell asleep.”

“Jim, I don’t–.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Kirk said, tone softening as he found Spock’s eyes.  Spock could taste the heat of his breath.  “You’re shaking.”  

For a brief moment, Spock wondered if Kirk was aware of what he was doing to him.  It was almost too perfect a torment when he pushed his forefinger between Spock’s first and second digits, sliding it down to the base.  But there was no chance the human understood the obscenity of such a caress.  

Spock’s lips parted in a silent gasp.

“Spock?”

A gentle current of concern and affection from Jim snuck through his barriers.  It poured into him, molten and indelible.  Usually he was able to shield himself from Kirk’s blazing flurry of emotions when they touched, but that was just a hand on his wrist, a grip on his shoulder. With the heat of Kirk’s fingers seeping into Spock’s , the pressure of his legs on Spock’s hips, and the bright hazel eyes dominating his field of vision, Spock was distracted.  

He felt Kirk’s mind breaching his defenses, carving out a place inside him and taking seed.  It was terrifying how easily Jim’s consciousness fit into the cracks and crevices inside him, how eagerly he welcomed the intrusion.  It was shameful.

“Please, Captain,” he heard himself say.  “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”  

“Touch me.”

Kirk’s flinched, his fingers going slack.  He scuttled back as much as their fetters would allow, and Spock felt the loss like part of himself was ripped away.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Spock.  I know physical contact is…disagreeable to you,“ Kirk said, his tone shifting into the commanding, professional timbre he used on the bridge.  The distance in his voice somehow made their close contact infinitely worse.  “But I’m going to get us out of this, and then, I swear, you’ll never have to touch me again.”

A soft smile curved the edges of his lips, but Spock could feel its falsehood through Jim’s skin and see the flecks of rejection in his eyes.  

“Jim…”

He wanted to object, to clarify, though words failed him as they so often did.  By the time he’d thought of an appropriate reply, the captain had moved on.

“Let’s try kicking the bars.  With your strength we could probably break them.  I doubt they accounted for Vulcan anatomy when they tied us up like this.”

Spock sighed to himself.

“No.  They did not.”

 

.:*・°☆.。

 

“Enter,” Spock said, standing from his desk chair.  Kirk strode into his quarters, hands linked behind his back.  

Since they’d broken free of the cage and found a blunt dagger to cut the straps binding their hands, things had been strange and distant between them.  

“Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?”

“Good evening, Mister Spock.  You appear to be…back to normal after our recent mission,” Kirk said, back stiff.

A silence settled around them, Spock unsure how to respond while Kirk stared at his shoes.  

Kirk broke the stasis with a growl, posture deflating as he took several steps into Spock’s space.

“Listen, Spock, you’ve barely looked at me since we got off that planet.  I know something’s up, so why don’t you just tell me so we can fix it.”

Spock swallowed hard before forming his response.

“I assumed you’d desire distance from me after being imprisoned in compact quarters for so long.”

“You assumed.”

“Quite logically.”

“I’m not the one who—“ Kirk began, jaw clicking shut when he cut himself off.  He took a deep breath.  “I’m not uncomfortable being close to you.”  His gaze slid up to meet Spock’s, searching for something.  “I hope you know that.”

“I see.”

“So there’s no reason for you to avoid me.”

“Understood, Captain.”

A frown puckered Kirk’s brow, but he offered a short nod and turned to leave.  Just before he reached the door, he clenched his fists and sighed.  When he turned back around, he strode right to Spock, so close that the scent of him inundated Spock’s senses.  

“Damnit, Spock, don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Kirk reached up to clutch Spock’s arms, and Spock flinched away before he could help it.  For an instant, naked hurt flashed in Kirk’s eyes.  

“Right.  I see,” Kirk said, clearing his throat and letting his hands fall to his sides.  “I…right.  I’ll leave you be, then.”  

Kirk was almost to the door when Spock found his voice.

“Jim.”

His captain halted and looked back over his shoulder.

“Are you aware of how Vulcans kiss?”

Kirk blinked, evidently caught off guard.  He turned slowly, and approached as though Spock were a prey animal in danger of being spooked.

“I guess I just assumed you do it the same way we do.”

“We are not opposed to your method.  But traditionally, it is done with the…hands.”

Spock watched Kirk process his words.

“Your parents.  I saw them press their fingers together.”

“Correct.  Though the translation is not wholly accurate, that would be akin to your version of a ‘peck.’”

After a pause, Kirk’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open.  Spock felt his cheeks flush.

“So when our hands were tied together…”

“It was a more intimate interaction for me than it was for you, yes.”

Kirk huffed and dragged a hand through his hair.

“More intimate?”

“Significantly, sir.”

“You mean I got to kiss you and I didn’t even realize it?”

The world seemed to freeze around them as Kirk’s words hung in the air. Spock searched his face for the disgust he expected, and couldn’t find it.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” Kirk murmured.  “I didn’t know.  I would never intentionally violate you like that.”

“If anything, I was violating you,” Spock corrected, words sharp with more conviction than he’d meant to reveal.

“It’s only a violation if I don’t want it.”

Taking a step, Kirk brought them impossibly closer.  In a slow, cautious movement, the tips of his fingers found Spock’s, and the Vulcan’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Is this okay?” Kirk whispered.  Spock swallowed against the lump in his throat.  Creeping tendrils of Kirk’s psyche entered him through their contact, and his mind opened for the intrusion in desperate relief.

He nodded, clenching his teeth against the tingles crawling up his arm. Kirk dragged his fingertips against the underside of his forefingers, and Spock’s mouth fell open.

“Sensitive, aren’t we.”  Spock could hear him grin around the words.

“You do not understand the significance of what you are doing.”  

“I think I do.  You have no idea how I feel about you.  No idea how often I think of you.”

“I…I think I could guess.”

“Guess, Mister Spock?  That’s unlike you.”

“You have a talent for making me act unlike myself.”

Spock felt the heat of Kirk’s chest against his own, could taste his breath in his mouth.  He didn’t dare open his eyes.

“You said you weren’t opposed to my method.”  His words vibrated against Spock’s lips.  “Care to test that theory?”  Kirk locked their fingertips together.

“Please, Jim.”

“Please, what?”

Even now, Spock couldn’t bring himself to say the words.  But with their link he didn’t need to.  He projected his longing, his anticipation, his arousal into the tentative bond between their minds.  Kirk gasped when the force of it hit him, and Spock felt warm, sweet lips against his for the first time.

At first the kiss was modest, but when Kirk pushed his fingers in between Spock’s, right down to the root, something fierce ignited within him.  Spock opened to Kirk, mind and body, and let his greatest friend slip inside.  

Kirk’s tongue was warm and wet, his body a perfect plane of muscle and sinew.  The smell of him was the essence of home, comfort.  He was so familiar and yet so foreign, so unexplored.

And the physical paled in comparison to his mind; luminous, strong, and dazzling in its humanity.  It kindled a part of Spock he always fought to repress, reaching deep inside him and digging out the hidden, shameful pieces.

“Jim,” he breathed.   _T’hy’la_.

Sliding his hands up Spock’s sides, Kirk yanked him close and wrapped his arms around his back.  His mouth broke from the kiss, and he pressed his forehead into the bend of Spock’s neck. Tentative, Spock’s hands found Jim’s waist, and held him in return.

“We should get imprisoned together more often,” Kirk breathed.

“I don’t believe that’s possible.”

“Probably not.”  Kirk leaned back to look Spock in the eye.  “Just so you know, now that you’ve let me kiss you, I think we should keep doing it…frequently…at every opportunity.”

“That’s uncharacteristically logical of you, Captain.”

“We all have our moments.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To reblog on tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/151531255340/in-which-spock-blushes-a-lot-and-kirk-is)


	2. We Almost Lost Each Other Let's Make Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock abandoned logic to save Kirk, and still thought he’d lost him forever. When he gets Kirk back he’s a little…intense about it.
> 
> TOS Coda fic taking place right after The Tholian Web

Kirk was just changing into his nightclothes when he heard his door slide open from an override.  He tugged a fresh black undershirt over his head, and stepped out of his bedroom with a scowl.

He wondered if Bones had come to check on him, as if he hadn’t spent enough time being injected and inspected within an inch of his life in sickbay.

“Who’s there?” The words were barely out of his mouth when he caught sight of his first officer, striding towards him with his head tilted down like a predator.  “Spock, what—“

His words were lost when Spock collided with his chest, gripping his shirt and forcing him backwards until he hit a wall. He grunted with the impact, the breath punching out of him.

Spock panted against his lips, his eyes dark and probing.  The Vulcan’s whole body was vibrating like he was under the “blood fever” again.  

He held Spock’s elbows and moved his thumbs back and forth in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“Hey, hey…what’s the matter?”

“Captain,” Spock growled.

“Spock–”

“You died.”  

Kirk was about to make a wisecrack about that statement not being logical, when he realized Spock was referring to how Kirk’s disappearance _felt_.  The subtle admission was unusual, and Kirk was hesitant in forming a reply.  If Spock was actually discussing his emotions, Kirk didn’t want to discourage him.

“I’m sorry.”  His mind sifted through a number of possible assurances, but none seemed to fit.  “I’ll try not to do it again,” was the best he could come up with, and he pillowed it with a teasing grin.

Spock’s grip on his shirt tightened, pressing him harder into the wall.  The Vulcan’s body was a hot line against his, his pelvis locked against Kirk’s, his forearms stiff and unyielding against Kirk’s chest.

“You–you did this,” he said, jostling him, and Kirk felt a shiver of fear.  The man before him seemed nothing like his best friend.  He was unhinged, feral.

“Did what, Spock?” Kirk chanced, since he’d never been any good at backing down from danger.  “What did I do?”

“You–I was not prepared.”

Kirk frowned.  Spock was enigmatic at the best of times, but usually Kirk could translate him better than this.  He slid his hands up Spock’s arms until he clasped his shoulders.

“To take command?  Well, it’s alright now.  I’m here, aren’t I?”

Spock shook his head.

“You would not allow me to take your place, and then you disappeared.”

“It’s my duty to make sacrifices for my crew.  You know that.”

Spock tilted forward until his forehead met with Kirk’s.

“I believed I would never see you again.”  

Kirk felt Spock’s breath against his mouth.  Adrenaline pumped through his veins, a desire he dared not name making his chest flutter.  Spock was impossibly close, and yet Kirk wanted him closer.  

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you care for me.”

Spock’s head jerked back so he could glare into Kirk eyes, his own glinting with a strange ferocity.

“You’re a superlative captain.  I have no desire to serve under any other.”

“Is that the only reason?  You think I’m a good captain?”

Spock’s expression faltered.  

“You are.  But no. The emotional response I experienced upon discovering your loss was…”

“Was what?” Kirk prompted when Spock seemed to retreat into himself.

“Devastating.”

Kirk swallowed.  

“That must have been difficult for you.”

“I wish to never feel such a way again.”

“Then I guess you should probably stop caring about me. Seems only logical.”  

Kirk couldn’t seem to stop pushing.  He’d never provoked such honesty or emotion from his best friend before, and the experience was addictive.  Especially when he was hyperaware of every point of contact between them, of how he should want to resist the inhumanly strong body pinning him to the wall, but he didn’t.

Spock’s eyes flickered away, and when they returned, their depths were human.

“Logical, but impossible,” he murmured.  

Spock’s fingertips touched the edge of Kirk’s jaw.  His gaze moved over Kirk’s face as though he was cataloguing every feature, every detail, or perhaps confirming that his captain was still there. 

Kirk felt the scrutiny like a physical touch, penetrating in its intimacy.

“I could not feel your mind,” Spock said.

“But can you feel it now?”

“Only if you ask it of me.”

The implication seemed clear, and Kirk was struck by the unreality of it.  How was it that mere hours ago he’d been floating in the cold black of space, sure that he’d never see another soul again, and now he was closer to another than he ever expected to be?  

He must be misinterpreting what Spock said.  It wouldn’t be the first time. He felt a sudden, intense need to _know_.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again either,” Kirk said.  It was a difficult admission for him, since he’d made it his duty to stay optimistic in the face of certain death.  He knew Spock would accept his weakness without judgement, though.  “When I was out there…I missed my ship, my crew.  But the way I thought of you, of never getting to tell you–” Kirk bit off the confession at the root, revealing far more than he’d intended.  “I felt very great regret.”

“As did I.”

“I feel this… _need_ to be closer to you.”  Kirk sealed his palms over the plane of Spock’s chest.  “Is that normal?  It doesn’t feel normal.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed.

“It is possible that the nature of our bond is causing psychological side effects.”

“Bond?”

“Yes.  When two Vulcans are as close as we are, a link forms between their minds.  I had suspected a similar connection was developing between us, but did not confirm it until you were separated from me.”

“But I’m not Vulcan.”

“And I am half-human.  Hence my indecision.”

Spock took a step back, taking his warmth with him. He let his arms fall to his sides.

“I apologize for my demeanor, Captain.  I did not intend to be physical with you. I see now that the apparent bond between us is influencing my behavior.”

Kirk dug his fingers into Spock’s chest, wanting desperately to yank him back, but holding his urges at bay, as he so often did with his best friend.

“If we’re bonded, why did you think I was dead when I wasn’t?  Shouldn’t you have been able to sense me?”

Spock’s eyebrow twitched.  Kirk swore he could see the gears turning in his head.

“Difficult to explain.  When I ordered the ship to remain in the off-chance that we would retrieve you, I ignored logic, which would have been to flee and preserve the crew.  McCoy was displeased with that decision.”

“I’ll bet.”

“But when you didn’t materialize, all evidence suggested your termination.  Without confirmation that the bond was shared, I attempted to ignore the instinct that told me otherwise, as it is common for those grieving to imagine hope where there is none.”

“And yet you still didn’t leave.  You still didn’t stop trying to get me back.”

“No, Captain.”

“I guess I owe you a ‘thank you,’ then.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“Spock.”

Kirk’s hands found Spock’s ribs, and he tugged. He released the breath he was holding when Spock closed the distance between them again.

“I want to be closer to you.”  He closed his fingers around Spock’s wrist, and lifted Spock’s hand to his face.      

“Jim.”

“Do it, Spock.  The meld.  I want you to.  Besides, how else will we know if you’re right about this bond thing?”

“You might not approve of some of my thoughts at the moment, Captain.”  

Spock’s eyes flickered to Jim’s mouth, and a verdurous blush bloomed on his cheeks.

Kirk didn’t bother with a rebuttal.  Nothing could be better than simply showing Spock the truth in his mind.  He guided Spock’s fingers to his psi points.

The moment Spock’s fingers made contact, a torrent of thoughts that were not his own flooded his mind.

Visions of the day were passed between them; of Kirk’s loneliness in a ship full of ghosts, of Spock’s desperation to bring him back, and their mutual, gutting distress at losing each other.  Kirk had always known Spock felt more than he let on, but seeing all that raw emotion laid bare was staggering.

Kirk couldn’t hide the regret he’d experienced in his solitude. He’d longed to tell Spock of the human feelings he believed would repulse the Vulcan, of how often he thought of him in the dark of his bedroom, and craved contact and intimacy and vows of partnership.  

To his surprise, Spock’s regret in those hours mirrored his own. He’d never told his captain how he set him apart from all other beings, how Jim’s mere existence anchored Spock to the rest of the living world.  How he was lost without him.

When Spock removed his fingers from Jim’s face, one by one, Jim came back into his body to the gradual realization that they were kissing. Spock’s lips were cool, gentle. Kirk’s palms cradled the sides of Spock’s neck, holding him in place as he savored their contact.  Waves of relief and affection flowed between them.

“I should have told you sooner,” Jim said when their lips parted.

“ _’Things without all remedy should be without regard.  What’s done, is done_.’”

“Are you quoting Shakespeare at me again, Mister Spock?”

“I have noted the effect it has on your regard for me.”

“If that’s your way of saying you’re trying to get me into bed, I’ll have to tell you the effort isn’t necessary,” Kirk said, shooting him a wink.

“But it couldn’t hurt, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To reblog on tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/151942433210/spock-abandoned-logic-to-save-kirk-and-still)


	3. Kirk Has a Fever and Thinks Spock is Very Handsome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kirk gets bitten by some alien creature, venom makes him sick with hallucinations and fever. Spock takes him to a cave for shelter while an Ion Storm keeps them from beaming out. (aka tropetastic tropey tropeness)

Kirk writhed as Spock lowered him to the ground.  He felt like small insects were crawling all over his skin, burrowing into his pores and setting his nerves on fire.

“Why must you always insist on touching dangerous, fanged creatures, Captain?” he heard Spock say, his voice fuzzy and distant.

“Just trying to make friends with the locals,” Kirk grit through his teeth.

“Perhaps on our next mission you should seek friendship from a ‘local’ lacking neurotoxin.”

“And miss all this fun?  Never.”

“I fail to see what aspects of your condition are fun.”

Kirk was about to deliver a no-doubt witty retort when a convulsion wracked his entire body.  He clenched his jaw as a cold sweat broke out on his skin.  Strong hands gripped his shoulders and held him steady until it passed.

“We need to get you to sickbay as soon as possible,” Spock said as he waved the hand scanner over Kirk’s body, intent on the tricorder.

“We aren’t going anywhere until this storm passes, which could take days. I don’t have days.”

“If you’re implying you won’t survive this affliction, Captain—“

“I might not.  And I won’t have you putting yourself in danger to stay here with me if something happens. I won’t have it.  That’s an order, Spock.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes.  He closed a hand around his first officer’s wrist, demanding his attention.

“You’re not listening to me, are you.”  It wasn’t a question.

“I am listening, sir.  I simply have no intention of doing what you ask.”

Kirk groaned.

“I could have you court martialed, you know.”

“That is, of course, your prerogative, Captain,” Spock said, completely unfazed. His focus returned to the tricorder.

As moments passed, Kirk’s condition grew rapidly worse.  The world around him distorted and spinned, his hold on reality failing with every burning tremor.  He tried to focus on the sound of rain pattering outside the cave, or the shuffle of his first officer, but they tethered him to sanity less and less.

A cool pressure was sealed over his forehead, and he sighed in relief.

“S’nice,” he slurred.

“You are quite feverish.”

“ _You_ are.”

Kirk’s eyes eased open, his vision settling unsteadily on the figure looming over him.  Spock seemed to glow with a pleasant green aura, his eyes shimmering in the low light. Kirk let himself admire the high arch of his cheeks, the inhuman lines of his eyebrows, and the slick dark of his hair.

“Handsome,” he heard someone say.  It took him a moment to realize that someone was him.

The green on Spock’s cheeks flared.

“I…beg your pardon, Captain?”

Kirk couldn’t find a reason to lie.  His whole body ached in waves, emanating from the bite on his arm.  He was so tired, yet his heart was pounding.  Death waited for him like a spectre in the cave’s shadows.  He didn’t fear it, but it made embarrassment over something so base as attraction seem silly.

“I said you’re handsome.”

“I….was not aware you thought so.”  Kirk felt Spock’s awkwardness as a smell in the air.  It was like his senses were inverted, warped, but somehow still clear.

“I’ve hardly been subtle.”

Kirk reached out and dropped his hand sluggishly on what he hoped was Spock’s knee.

“You’re my best friend, Spock.”

“Friendship has no correlation with attraction,” Spock said.  Kirk noticed distantly that Spock’s hand had migrated from his forehead to his cheek.  He nuzzled into the pressure, curling towards Spock on his side as another shiver jolted through him.

A strange calm spread through him from Spock’s palm.  It trickled into him like liquid sunlight, warming the parts of him that were frigid with the venom.

“Are you doing that?” he said.

“Affirmative.”

Whatever “that” was, it was nice.  Kirk wondered if this meant Spock wasn’t mad at him for the “handsome” comment.

“No, Jim, I am not mad.”

That was strange.  Kirk blinked up at him, shaking his head when his vision swirled.

“Are you in my mind?”

“Only your surface thoughts.  You think quite loudly.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“And your mind is heavily under the influence of fever.”

“You could go deeper, you know.  If you wanted,” Kirk said, winking up at him.  Or at least trying to.  He might have just blinked.  Spock arched an eyebrow.

“In your condition you are hardly able to consent to a mind meld.”

“You mean because I’m dying?”

Abruptly, a spike of rage shot through the calming waves from Spock’s touch.  Kirk flinched away, severing their contact and getting hit with an overwhelming rush of pain at the loss of Spock’s soothing touch.  Flame and tar consumed the world around him, untethering Kirk from reality. He whimpered. 

 For a horrifying moment, he forgot who he was.

Then two hands took hold of his face, and another presence entered his mind. He was wrapped in familiarity and warmth, brought back to himself by the one person who could.

In their bond, he _saw_ Spock, all of him, down to the deepest, hidden fiber.  Everything he buried, everything he thought and feared and coveted.  Kirk beheld it all, in beautiful, luminous detail.

He curled into Spock’s essence and let it bring him to light.

“Spock,” he gasped.

“I am sorry, Jim. I should have better control of myself.”

“You hate the thought of losing me.  It makes you sick…and angry.”  Kirk spoke as though he was reading from the book of Spock’s psyche.  Stars popped in the blur framing Spock’s face; an illusion to be sure, but striking all the same.

“…yes,” Spock said.

“You like that I think you’re handsome.”

When Spock hesitated, Kirk found his eyes, and pleaded with his own.

“Yes,” Spock murmured.

“You think I’m handsome too.”

“Jim.  Please.”

“Spock, I—“

Kirk was cut off by the beep of the communicator.  He was saved, and the moment was lost.

 

 .:*・°☆.。

 

“Well, Jim, despite your best efforts it seems you’re not gonna’ die thanks to the genius of your chief medical officer.  You’re welcome,” McCoy said, patting Kirk on the arm.  Kirk’s attention, however, was married to the figure appearing in the doorway.

“Ah, Spock,” McCoy said, gaze following Kirk’s.  “Strange to see you here.  It’s not like you’ve darkened my door twenty times since the captain was admitted.”

Spock shot McCoy an icy stare, arching a brow that only seemed to amuse the doctor further.

“If you’ll excuse me,” McCoy said with a smirk, sauntering across the room and nudging Spock with an elbow on his way out.

“You are feeling better?” Spock said after a moment.

“I’m not delirious anymore, if that’s what you mean.”  Spock nodded once.  “Come here.”

After hesitating, Spock crossed the room to stand at Kirk’s bedside.  

“Listen, Spock.  I’m sorry if I, uh, made you uncomfortable down there in that cave.  I wasn’t really aware of what I was saying.”

It was slight, but Spock’s stoic expression flickered.  If Kirk hadn’t just felt the Vulcan in his mind he might not have noticed.  Yet there was something about their meld that had left him feeling attuned to Spock as he wasn’t before.

“I am aware, Captain.  We can disregard anything that occurred during the mission.  Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Spock, wait,” Kirk said, reaching out to take Spock’s hand.  “Just because I wasn’t aware doesn’t mean I was lying.”

Spock halted, his gaze shifting down to their hands.  Kirk considered releasing him, but he’d seen enough of Spock’s thoughts to know that wasn’t what he truly wanted.

“And I want to thank you.  For saving my life.”

“Gratitude is unnecessary.”

“Damnit, Spock, stop deflecting me.”

“I am not—“

“You know how I feel about you.  You must have seen it in my head.  So you have to tell me…did I just hallucinate what I saw in yours, or…?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Spock stared down at him, stationary and expressionless.  But then, Kirk felt a gentle pulse of warmth through the link of their hands.

“Vulcans do not lie.”

“So you _do_ think I’m handsome,” Kirk said, grinning.  

Spock adjusted until their index and middle fingers were pressed together. Kirk recognized the gesture from his time with Spock’s parents.

“Are you kissing me, Spock?”

Vulcan ears tinged green.

“Well if you going to do it your way, you might as well do mine too,” Kirk said, reaching out and tangling his fingers in Spock’s shirt.  He pulled him down gently, and hesitated when their mouths were a hairsbreadth apart.

“You want this, right?” he whispered.

“ _Jim_.”  It was incredible how Spock could inject so much into one simple word.

Their lips met, and the mental bond between them dilated, bathing Kirk in the sweet essence of his greatest friend.  Spock’s mouth was soft and yielding, his thoughts passionate and burning with more emotion than Kirk thought possible.  Kissing him felt like crawling into bed after a long day, like a warm bath on aching joints, like coming home.

“Damnit, you green-blooded hobgoblin, stop necking my patient!”

Spock sprang back like he’d been burned, and Kirk groaned.  

“You have terrible timing, Bones.”

“Don’t I know it.  I’m gonna’ need a jug of Romulan ale and a concussion to burn that image out of my brain.”

“If you need assistance with the concussion, Doctor, I am happy to help.”

“’Happy,’ Spock?  Isn’t that a human emotion?” McCoy jeered.

Spock’s eyes flickered to Kirk.

“Apparently,” Spock said, and Kirk smiled.  

Bones rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To reblog on tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/151994203415/when-kirk-gets-bitten-by-some-alien-creature)


	4. Accidentally Shared Sex Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk keeps having increasingly vivid sex dreams about Spock, and now his Vulcan first officer is acting weird.
> 
> Rated Mature for my inappropriate use of mind melds.

Kirk wakes up hard for the fifth day in a row.

The moment he’s conscious he takes himself in hand, desperate for the release that was just out of reach in his dreams.  He shuts his eyes and sees the image of Spock on his knees, ears flushed and hair tangled in Kirk’s fingers.

It’s unclear when his regard for Spock transitioned from friendly adoration to damn-near spiritual desire, but he’s not optimistic he can go back after the lewd visions his psyche has conjured.

He doesn’t have to stroke himself for long before he’s coming, clamping his hand over his mouth to keep his best friend’s name from escaping.

Kirk stretches with a reproachful sigh and makes his way to the bathroom to wash off the evidence. The door slides open the exact same moment Spock’s does, and he finds himself face to face with the very object of his fantasy.

“Oh! Mister Spock, you surprised me. Good morning,” Kirk says, ignoring his own severe lack of clothing and burying his guilt.  He clutches his towel like a shield.

Spock does nothing but nod once in response.  He’s wearing pants and his black undershirt, but it’s obvious from the towel in his hand that he means to use the sonic as well.

“You want the shower first?”

“No, Captain.  Thank you.” Without another word Spock turns on his heel and the door slides shut behind him.  Kirk stares.  Spock can be taciturn, but he’s usually genial and even chatty when they’re alone.  

For a brief, horrifying moment Kirk wonders if Spock knows he just jerked off to the thought of him, but he banishes the idea before he gives himself an anxiety attack.  He tugs off his briefs, steps into the sonic, and doesn’t give it another thought.

 

.:*・°☆.。

 

Somehow, it’s worse the next morning.  He hasn’t opened his eyes before he’s coming, arching off his bed with nothing but the pressure of his briefs to stimulate him.  

He collapses back on the mattress and gasps for breath.  His dream had been so vivid he swears he can still feel the bite mark Spock had left in his shoulder, can smell the heat of sex and skin.  

And yet, while he’s just endured one of the most intense orgasms of his young life, he still feels empty, unsatisfied.  It’s frustrating, but he buries the ache deep and prepares for his shift.  The high blush doesn’t leave his cheeks until he’s finished his breakfast.

When the turbolift opens and he steps onto the bridge, he notes that Spock isn’t at his station.  It’s unusual, but not unheard of, so he takes his seat at the captain’s chair and ignores the twinge in his gut.

Spock steps into the room only a few moments later.  When Kirk swivels his chair to greet him he knows instantly that something is wrong.

His first officer doesn’t acknowledge him, merely walks straight to his station, back stiff and hands fisted at his sides.

“Hello, Mister Spock,” Kirk says as he saunters up to him, more confident than he feels.  “I trust you slept well.”

Spock ignores him, focus intent on the scope.  Leaning back on the railing, Kirk tries again.

“I, uh…had fun during our chess game the other night.  Maybe we can have a rematch this evening so you can try to beat me for a change.”  Spock still doesn’t reply.  “Spock?” Kirk says, quieter, and reaches out to touch his elbow.

Spock spins on him, pulling away from the contact and refusing to meet Kirk’s eyes.

“I must decline, Captain.  I have urgent business to attend to in the lab this evening.”

“Oh,” Kirk says, trying and failing to hide the rejection he feels.  “I see.  Right.  Maybe some other time then.”

He offers a weak smile, and turns back to his chair.  He doesn’t look at Spock unless he has to for the rest of his shift, but he swears he can feel the Vulcan’s attention on him like a physical weight.

 

:*・°☆.。

 

Kirk writhes, his skin alight with tingling sensation, a heat blooming in his pelvis.

“Spock,” he pants with a roll of his hips.  He looks down at the body below him, glowing green through a haze of fog. Spock is inside him, or he is inside Spock.  He cannot tell.  The physical feels distant, surreal, while the presence deep in his mind is blistering in its vibrancy.  

They’re penetrating each other, and nothing has ever felt like this.

Pleasure coils through every nerve, tighter and tighter, and just when he thinks it’s about to crest, Spock drags him to another level.  

“I can’t.  It’s too much,” Kirk slurs, stars popping around him.

"You underestimate yourself, Captain.”  Spock says, voice trembling.  Hearing Spock lose some of his rigid composure is intoxicating.

Ecstasy crawls to its peak, and then, of course, Kirk wakes up.

He falls off the edge of his bed and hits the floor with a grunt.  

It takes a long time to catch his breath as he lies there, briefs wet and ass sore from the fall.  He feels strange, almost ill.

Something pulses in the back of his mind, and if Kirk didn’t know better he’d swear it was the echo of Spock’s presence.  A current of shame trickles through him.  It’s too unfathomable to be his own.

With a swell of resolve, Kirk heaves to his feet.  He changes into fresh clothes and stomps to the shared bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he pounds his fist on the door to Spock’s quarters.

After a few long, excruciating moments, the door slides open and he’s met with the aberrant image of a tousled Vulcan.

“Spock, I—“ Kirk cuts himself off, taking in Spock’s frazzled appearance. His hair is mussed, his cheeks flushed green and eyes tired.  “Are you alright?  You look like hell.”

“Fine, Captain.  Is something wrong?”

Kirk mouths soundlessly.

“I’m…not sure how to tell you.”

“Then please, excuse me,” Spock says, reaching for the button to shut the door.

“Wait—“  

Kirk grabs Spock’s wrist as he steps over the threshold to his quarters.  Spock gasps when Kirk’s skin meets his, a tremor rippling through his frame.  For an instant a flash of fear and disgrace, fighting against desire, bursts in Kirk’s mind. 

Spock rips his wrist from Kirk’s grip and staggers back.  Putting his hands up in placation, Kirk takes a few steps towards him.

“Spock.  What’s going on?”

“Captain, I don’t—“

“Please.  Talk to me.”

Spock stiffens, and Kirk is sure he’s about to be rebuffed, but then his shoulders sag and he turns away.  Spock goes to his desk and sits down, gesturing for Kirk to take the seat across from him.

Kirk perches on the desk right in front of Spock instead.

“Why am I having dreams about you, Spock?”  He leaves out the little detail about the nature of those dreams, but he sees from the deepening flush on Spock’s cheeks that he knows anyway.

“You’re not.”

“Uh, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I am.”

“You are having dreams _with_ me, Captain, not about me.”

Kirk blinks.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Spock closes his eyes, seeming to rally himself, before he speaks.

“Among Vulcans it is common for a mental link to form between compatible mates, for the biological purpose of facilitating intimacy and…sexual congress.”

The blood drains from Kirk’s face.

“So…are you saying we’re, what, compatible mates?” he asks.

“It would seem so.”

“And we’re sharing sex dreams because of it?” Kirk says, watching Spock’s throat bob.  “But I’m not a Vulcan.”

“I have noticed, sir.  I…apologize.”

Kirk sifts through several possible responses, but none seem to fit.  He takes a long moment to gather himself before he speaks.

“This must be horrible for you.”  Spock’s head jerks up, his eyes finally finding Kirk’s. “I’m sorry, Spock.  I wish you didn’t have to go through that.  I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel.”

“Captain?”

Kirk swallows, feeling lightheaded.  Panic crawls up his throat.

“It must have been disgusting for you to see those things in my head, and I want you to know I would never put you—“

“Jim,” Spock says, voice cutting through the haze swelling in Kirk’s mind, as he rises to his feet.  He gazes down at Kirk where he sits on the edge of the desk.  “It is not possible for dreams of this nature to occur unless there is mutual regard.”

“Then…then why did you avoid me?  You acted like you couldn’t stand to look at me.”

Cool fingertips touch the edge of Kirk’s jaw.   He freezes, terrified that any movement will scare Spock away.  

Spock takes a step, putting himself between Kirk’s legs.

“I did not know for certain until this morning that we shared this bond.”

“So, what, you were just grossed out that you were dreaming about me like that?”

“Quite the contrary.  I feared I would be unable to control my emotional response in your presence. Your mind is striking, even in dreams.”

Spock stares at him with naked affection, bordering on wonderment.  Kirk’s breath catches.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want this,” he whispers.  “Me.”

“I assumed the same of you.  Despite our obvious connection, I was unsure that you understood the implications, or even could as a human, of what I desire from you. This is not a ‘fling,’ Jim.” Spock lets his hand fall from Kirk’s face, and he takes a step back.  “If your attraction for me is transient, I must sever the bond immediately. I am not capable of—“

Kirk grabs Spock’s hips and draws him in between his thighs.

“I should probably mention that I’ve planned on spending the rest of my life with you for a few years now.  Is that information relevant?”  Warmth pools in Kirk’s belly as he flexes his legs, pressing their groins together.

Spock’s eyebrow twitches.

“Quite relevant.”

Kirk takes a deep breath, and finds his bravery

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” he confesses.

Spock holds Kirk’s head in place with two hands on his neck, and kisses him.

Most of Kirk’s sexual interactions started with a slow burn, escalating on a consistent incline.  But with Spock, they’re barely kissing when something sparks between them.  The floodgates open, and Kirk sinks.  Mental barriers crumple with each frantic collision of lips, each touch of skin on skin.

Spock lifts him, seating him more fully on the desk, and Jim just about comes in his pants at the display of Vulcan strength. He wraps his legs around Spock’s hips.

“Spock.  Need more,” Kirk says, clawing at Spock’s back and grinding up.  “Come closer, damnit.”

“I don’t believe that is physically possible.”

Kirk takes Spock’s hand and places it on his face.

“I didn’t mean physically.”

Something primal glints in Spock’s eyes.

“Jim.”

“Please.”

Spock enters him, and Kirk whimpers in relief. The melding of their minds feels right, blissful, voltaic.  Spock _fits_ inside him, similar and different in all the ways he needs.  

Being so close is almost too much, and yet they keep getting closer, sinking into each other until there’s nothing left between them.

Kirk can’t hold himself back.  He’s raw, naked, spread open and probed.  

With one final thrust, in both mind and body, he comes.  Answering ecstasy bathes them both in cleansing pleasure; the sparking friction born of two souls touching.  He’s never felt anything like it before.

All of the strength leaves Kirk, and he sags, vaguely aware that strong arms catch him.  Spock is still in his mind, but his presence is gentler than before.  Spock picks him up in his arms and carries him. In a moment he’s laid on something soft..

When he eventually comes back to himself, his eyes flutter open to the sight of Spock’s ceiling.  He turns his head on what must be a pillow and finds Spock staring at him, face mere inches away.

“Spock,” he says simply.

“T’hy’la,” Spock says.  Kirk reads the word’s meaning through their bond, and he thinks, with a grin, that it suits them just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To reblog on tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/152345938160/kirk-keeps-having-increasingly-vivid-sex-dreams)


	5. Kirk Has An Affinity for Vulcans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk was saved from Tarsus IV by Vulcans when he was fourteen, but the memory of Kodos the Executioner and his child soldiers still haunts him. It takes another Vulcan to save him when a man resembling Kodos comes aboard the Enterprise, reminding Kirk that he never truly escaped his past.
> 
> Based on 'The Conscience of the King' from Star Trek TOS. Mentions of trauma, panic attacks, and starvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be two paragraphs. 3200 words later...

James Kirk is thirteen years old, and his world is ice, and bile, and terror. 

Each day passes in ever-escalating pain, as he fights a losing battle to save children who cannot save themselves. 

James Kirk is thirteen, and he is being hunted on Tarsus IV.

He shepherds starving kids on his back, holds their frigid, bony hands and hides them in caves or shrubs that are never safe for long.  He feeds them bitter roots and berries, steals from camps when he can, and takes none for himself.  His body devours what remains of muscle when fat runs out.  He hurts everywhere. 

Predators lurk in the shadows.  They are children too.

 .:*・°☆.。

 

James Kirk is fourteen when he is captured, and he welcomes death.  He has no fear.  Death lost all meaning beyond an end to pain.

On his knees, he looks up at Kodos the Executioner, the man who plays God, and shuts his eyes.  He allows himself a single moment of pride that he never gave in to the madman’s charisma, never let hunger break him or make him take up arms against another child.

James Kirk is fourteen, and he will never see another year.

Then, a light fills the sky.  Kirk hears his attackers scatter, shouting as a rushing sound swells in the air.

Kirk opens his eyes, and watches a ship descend from the stars.  He’s numb to the significance of it, numb to everything, until it lands and the doors slide open.  Two beings, silhouetted in light, step down the ramp and approach him.

Kirk blinks up at them when they draw close.  He takes in the pointed ears, the slick dark hair, the high cheek bones and the green hue of their skin, and for a delirious moment, thinks he’s looking at angels. 

It’s the first time he’s ever seen Vulcans; the ones who saved him from hell. 

 .:*・°☆.。

 

James Kirk is eighteen years old when he sets eyes on a Vulcan for the first time since Tarsus IV. 

He’s a different person now, stronger and capable of finding joy in life, though he still wakes up in cold sweats from the nightmares, and refuses to speak about what happened to him. 

He has difficulty with food, always eating too much and making himself sick, never willing to throw any out, even if it’s expired.  One time Winona caught him hoarding moldy bread in his closet.  He doesn’t do that anymore.

Still, he’s young and resilient, and the stars call to him.  A man named Mallory who knows his past helps get him admitted to Starfleet Academy.  It’s a new beginning, and he thinks he’s ready to put the past behind him.  Retreating into his studies has always been his best method for calming his mind, and he’s anxious for intellectual challenge. 

He keeps moving forward, advancing, building a reality for himself where phantoms can’t hunt him anymore.

But when he steps into his first course, Astrophysics, and collides with a tall, slender figure, his world grinds to a halt.

He stares up, wide-eyed, at the same Vulcan features from his dreams every night.

Something inside him cracks, a flood of repressed memories pulling beads of sweat from his skin, dizzying him.

“I…you…” he sputters.

“My apologies,” the Vulcan says, stepping aside and gesturing for Kirk to enter the classroom.  “You’re early for class.  My name is Spock.  I’m the Teaching Assistant.  What is your name?”

Kirk blinks.  He can’t seem to get enough saliva in his mouth to form words.  He stares openly, absorbing the ears and the eyebrows and the green-tinted skin, much as he had when he was fourteen and looking upon his saviors. 

He can’t help but find Spock beautiful.  And not beautiful like the girls he dates.  It’s deeper than that - spiritual, primal.

James Kirk is eighteen, and he doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but if he did…

“Cadet?”

Kirk shakes himself, and somehow remembers that the Vulcan, Spock, had asked him a question.

“K-Kirk.  James…Jim.”

“Your name is Kirk James Jim.”

“What?  No!” Kirk huffs a nervous laugh.  “My name is James Kirk, but you can call me Jim.”

“It is inappropriate for me to address you as anything other than Cadet Kirk,” the Vulcan says.  “Excuse me.”  Spock skirts past him, exiting the room. 

When the door slides shut behind him, Kirk bends over, hands on his knees, and tries to catch his breath.

He’s barely able to concentrate that day, which means he makes a horrible first impression.  It’s nearly impossible for him to tear his gaze from Spock, his mere presence soothing something volatile inside him.

At the end of class, Kirk is walking up to Spock before he knows what he’s doing.  He has no idea what he’s going to say, only that he must say something.

“Hey, Spock, I was wondering if sometime you wanted to—“

“You seem to have difficulty concentrating in class, Cadet Kirk.  Is this going to be an ongoing problem?”

“N-no, I—“

“Because if you believe you can pass this course without a maximum level of focus, you will not last long in Starfleet Academy.”

Kirk mouths soundlessly, face burning. 

“I’m…sorry.”

“I prefer action over words of apology.”

Embarrassment sparks anger inside him, an old defense mechanism. 

“If you check my aptitude tests, you’ll see I have no trouble focusing, sir.”

“I have already read your file while you were occupied not paying attention to the lecture.  It seems that Mr. Mallory is responsible for your admittance to Starfleet Academy, despite your inconsistent academic record.  I don’t know what kind of favor your parents did for Mr. Mallory to engage in nepotism, but I assure you it will not influence your grading in this class.”

A stab of shame stops Kirk short.  He knew Mallory’s charity was simply because the man pitied him for Tarsus IV.  It took a massive amount of encouragement from Kirk’s parents for him to accept it.  With one remark, Spock undoes the tenuous acceptance he’d managed.

“It’s not like that,” he says weakly, even to his own ears.

Spock ignores him, taking up his PADD and messenger bag.  He strides past Kirk without looking at him.  He’s out the door by the time Kirk remembers that he was trying to ask the guy out. 

He feels stupid, and rejected.  Pathetic.  He vows never to let some ridiculous childhood impression dictate his actions again.

 

By the end of the semester, Kirk has the highest grade in the course.  He’s packing up his bag after the last class before winter break when a figure looms over his desk.

“Cadet Kirk.”

Kirk’s head snaps up.  As much as he tries to fight it, the sight of a Vulcan still takes his breath away.  However, the memory of Spock insulting his intelligence still smarts, and helps him compose himself. 

“Yes, sir?”

“I am no longer your TA, so it unnecessary to call me ‘sir.’”

“Okay,” Kirk says, curtly.  He stuffs his PADD into his bag and rises to his feet.  “Have a good break, I guess.”  He turns to leave.

“Jim.”  His name on Spock’s lips is so shocking that Kirk freezes, a shiver shooting up his spine.  He turns.  “It seems that I may have mischaracterized you upon our first meeting.”

“Really?  And what lead you to that conclusion?”

“Your academic record this semester.”

“Oh, that thing you called ‘inconsistent’ the first day of class?  The same thing you insulted me for?  Is that the thing you mean?”

Spock’s eyebrow twitches.

“The very same.”

“Ah,” Kirk says.  A smirk curls the corners of his lips.  He’s never seen Spock smile, but there’s warmth in his eyes now, an apology.  Forgiveness comes swiftly.  “So, since you’re no longer my TA, is it appropriate to ask you to join me for lunch?”

Spock frowns, and Kirk wants to kick himself.  How many times does he have to be rebuffed before he gets the message? 

“I would enjoy that, thank you,” Spock says.

Kirk lets out the breath he was holding, and his grin spreads.  The feeling he’s tried to repress all semester blooms in his chest.

James Kirk is eighteen when he makes his first Vulcan friend.

 .:*・°☆.。

 

James Kirk is thirty-four years old when he becomes the youngest captain in the history of Starfleet.

He’s ecstatic and motivated, his nerves only fanning his verve to excel.  His two best friends will be his closest officers, including the Vulcan he’s pined after for over fifteen years.

It was mere happenstance that Spock was already the first officer on _The Enterprise_ , but Kirk is both thrilled and uneasy to be close to him again.  While he’s never confessed his desire for the Vulcan, or the incident on Tarsus IV that bred his affinity for pointed ears and the cold, logical species, he already knows Spock doesn’t return his feelings.

The years have taught him that Spock has more emotion than he lets on, but also that he has no wish for romantic companionship.  Kirk has tried, and failed, to hint at his desires enough times to know they aren’t returned.

Regardless, Kirk believes he has buried his longing sufficiently.  That is, until the moment he sees Spock again after years of separation. 

As soon as he materializes on the transporter pad, his eyes lock on the figure of his best friend, standing near the controls with hands linked behind his back.  A small gasp escapes Kirk’s lips, unbidden.  

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” Spock says, the picture of formality.

“Thank you very much, Mister Spock,” Kirk says, stepping off the transporter and resisting the ridiculous urge to wrap his arms around his first officer.  He places a hand on Spock’s shoulder instead.  “I missed you.”  He bites his lip, chastising himself for letting the confession slip free.

“I am…also pleased to see you, Jim.”

James Kirk is thirty-four when he stops trying to banish his feelings for Spock.

 .:*・°☆.。

 

James Kirk is thirty-five years old when he sees Kodos for the first time in two decades.

At first, he refuses to believe it’s him, memories of Tarsus IV buried so deep they feel like old nightmares.  The one truth that had gotten him through years of flashbacks and fear, was that Kodos was pronounced dead.  His corpse had been found.  It was fact.

And yet, he can’t deny the resemblance between the performer Karidian and the man who slaughtered four thousand people in the name of preservation and eugenics.  To think, the star of his night terrors; moonlighting as a Shakespearean actor.  It’s absurd.

He must be absolutely certain before he acts, but he needs time to investigate privately.  Time that Spock refuses to give him.

His Vulcan knows him too well, has memorized his patterns of behavior so thoroughly that any anomaly sticks out.

When Spock strides into his quarters, he knows it’s over.  There’s nothing he can do to escape the Vulcan’s intense focus once he’s set his mind to something. 

“Alright, Mister Spock, let’s have it,” Kirk sighs.  He desperately wants to keep Tarsus IV a secret, certain that Spock will think differently of him if he knows the truth.  He’ll find him weak, damaged, unfit for command.

“Lieutenant Riley was a witness.  So were you.”

Kirk sucks in a deep, shaking breath.  Panic waits like a specter in the corner of his mind, but he bullies it back. 

“Alright.”

Spock barrels on.  It’s clear that he’s done his research, that he already knows.  McCoy says something, but Kirk’s ears are rushing and he doesn’t hear him.

“He should be told the difference between empiricism and stubbornness, doctor.  I checked with the library computer just as you did.  I got the same information.”

“Aren’t you getting a little out of line, Mister Spock,” Kirk says, begging for his friend to stop, for them to go back to the way they were before, when Spock didn’t know.  “My personal business—“

“It is _my_ personal business when it might interfere with the smooth operation of this ship.”

“You think that happened?”  A part of Kirk crumbles.

“It could happen.”

“I don’t like anyone meddling in my private affairs, not even my second in command.”  He wants the words to cut deep, to hurt.  Spock is more than just his second in command, and he’s been privy to Kirk’s ‘private affairs’ more than any other soul, more than he even knows.

Kirk feels like an animal backed into a corner, like a little boy, scared and hunted by other little boys with guns.  He feels like he hasn’t healed at all.

McCoy reminds him that Spock is just doing his job, and Kirk deflates.  He can hardly blame Spock for his own weakness, his own broken psyche.

He stops fighting.  Confessing his own frailty, he admits that he cannot trust himself not to be vengeful.  He has put his command in jeopardy.

“You can’t bring back the dead, Jim.”

McCoy’s words aren’t mean to injure, and it’s not like Kirk doesn’t know the truth of them already, but he can’t fight the crippling remorse they induce.

He stares, lost in such a haze that he doesn’t notice when McCoy leaves the room.   He’s alone with Spock, and he can’t bear to look at him.

“Jim.  Why didn’t you tell me?”  Spock’s words are quiet, close.

“I didn’t tell anybody.”

“Mallory knew, didn’t he.  That’s why he gave you the recommendation.”  Kirk can only nod.  “By not telling me, you have put your life in danger.  I highly suspect an assassination attempt.”

Kirk shrugs.  It wouldn’t be the first time Kodos has tried to kill him.

Firm hands grab his shoulders, jerking him until he meets Spock’s eyes.

“Captain, you need to let me protect you.”  Spock’s voice is more aggressive than Kirk has ever witnessed.  For a Vulcan, he might as well be unhinged.

“I don’t need anyone to protect me.  I didn’t have anyone then.  I didn’t—I was alone, and cold, and he, he—“

Stars pop around him, he can’t seem to get enough air.  He feels the frigid wind of Tarsus IV on his back, the sharp pain of stomach acid eating through his guts.  Fear billows, rising up to suffocate him.

Cool hands take hold of his face.

“Breathe, Jim.”

Spock leans close, demanding eye contact.  Blinking, Kirk’s gaze focuses. 

James Kirk is thirty-five when a Vulcan pulls him from Tarsus IV for the second time.

Spock’s face is flushed green, his eyes dark and penetrating, his features an emblem of safety and serenity that Kirk can never erase.

“Vulcans,” Kirk whispers.  “They saved me.”

Spock’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment, before recognition clicks behind his gaze.

“Vulcans were the first responders on Tarsus IV.”

“Yes.  The first time I saw you, I…”  He can’t finish the sentence.

“Jim.  You should have told me.”

“I should have told you a lot of things.”

In the wake his panic receding, Kirk feels drained…sad.  The furrow is back in Spock’s brow, but Kirk pulls away from it.

“If this is Kodos,” Spock says from behind him, “we need to know.  I want to help you, Jim.”

Kirk nods.

 .:*・°☆.。

 

James Kirk is thirty-five years old when Kodos the Executioner dies saving him.

Kirk sits at his desk, head in his hands, and prays for clarity.  Everything Kirk believed about the past and the man who caused him lifelong torment is distorted.

Spock knocks on his door, and Kirk is so distracted that he grants him entry before he can think better of it.

“Captain?” Spock says.  Kirk listens to his footsteps as he approaches.

“Alright, Spock.  Let’s have it.”  Kirk leans back with a sigh.

“Excuse me?”

Jim meets Spock’s gaze.

“You know what happened now.  Logically, there’s no way you think I’m fit for command.”

“Jim, I don’t—“

“I had a damn panic attack, Spock.  I know you didn’t forget.  So tell me, are you going to report me now or wait until we—“

“ _Jim_.”  Spock pulls him to his feet.  Strong fingers grip his chin.  “You are the most capable Captain in the fleet.  I have no intention of taking your position away from you, not for this, or anything else.  You had a normal response to an immensely stressful situation.  I can feel your shame, and I assure you, it is entirely illogical.”

“Spock.”

“You believe that I will think less of you now that I possess this knowledge of your past.  I can assure you the effect is quite the opposite, sir.”  Spock tilts his head to the side.  Kirk can taste his breath.  “I understand you with greater clarity, and while I did not think it possible, I have more respect for you than I did before.”

Kirk swallows hard against the lump in his throat.  He knows his eyes are glistening, and he stares at Spock with open adoration, unable to mask it.  He’s so tired, raw, and he’s burned for Spock for long that he can’t fight it anymore.

He sees the moment Spock feels his longing through his skin.  His pupils dilate, an eyebrow arching up his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk breathes.  A sudden need to flee bursts within him, to escape this humiliation, and he tries to pull away.  Spock won’t let him.

“Why do you assume so little of my regard for you?” Spock asks.  His palm slides against the curve of Kirk’s jaw.  “T’hy’la.”

Spock leans forward and joins their lips together for the first time.  Kirk whimpers, stunned by the unreality of it, of having the one thing he’s wanted most, but believed would forever be out of his reach.  Joy that is damn near painful bursts in his chest.  He allows the tears he’s been holding back to fall.

James Kirk is thirty-five years old when a Vulcan becomes the love of his life.

 .:*・°☆.。

 

Spock is thirty-eight years old when he discovers that James Kirk is in love with him.

He is shocked.  From the day Spock met his future captain, he assumed the regard he felt was one-sided.  How could someone as charismatic and passionate and luminous as James Kirk care for someone like Spock?  It’s not logical, yet Kirk seems to insist against all reason to be his friend.  Spock never expected anything more.   Didn’t deserve it.

So to see his own longing reflected back at him is…staggering.

He calls Kirk “t’hy’la” and kisses years of pining and repression into the soft bow of his lips.  Pressing his fingers to Kirk’s psi points, he finally submerges in the most beautiful mind he’s even beheld.  Spock thought he comprehended the human concept of love before he melded with Kirk.  He had been wrong.

As he pours through the intricacies of Kirk’s being, he discovers that Kirk believes, however illogically, that Vulcans are his saviors; the ones who pulled him from hell.

Spock is thirty-eight when he vows to be the savior Kirk believes him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic) to read/reblog on tumblr.


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